‘Kelly! Oh my god. Kelly!’
The blood pouring from my sister’s neck soaks the front of me when I catch her as she falls. Her eyes flutter. Her skin is clammy and pale. I grab my pillow from my makeshift bed on the couch and yank off the pillowcase, pressing it into her neck.
‘Help! Someone help!’ I scream.
Where’s my phone? I know I brought it downstairs with me before I curled up on the couch, but—
The back door slams open and bangs loudly against the wall. I let out a startled yelp.
‘What is—’ Bran stands in the rectangle of early morning light. When he scents the blood, his eyes flash amber. ‘Mouse, are you hurt?’ he asks, his voice dropping an octave.
‘It’s my sister.’ I hoist her up. She’s almost dead weight in my arms.
‘Invite me in,’ he says.
I lick my lips, swallow hard. What was Bran just saying to his brother earlier?
This kind of war would be bloody and violent. There are better ways. More discreet ways.
I look down at my sister. Did Bran do this? Is this some kind of twisted game to get invited into our house?
I try to sort out all of the reasons he might want to be invited in, but the panic has my thoughts jumbled.
‘Mouse,’ he says again, more sharply this time.
‘I’m not inviting you in.’
‘She’ll die then.’
I curse beneath my breath. I could call the Guard, but they’re human. They travel on four wheels, not two legs. Kelly’s already lost a lot of blood…
Goddammit.
Winding my arm around her waist, I drag Kelly to the back door. She’s not completely unconscious, and her legs mostly stay beneath her.
‘This is ridiculous,’ Bran grumbles. ‘Invite me in.’
‘I’m not inviting you in!’
I get to the kitchen, past the island, and Kelly’s legs buckle beneath her. I catch her before she goes down and switch tactics by hooking my hands beneath her arms and dragging her backwards. When I get her shoulders out through the door, Bran pushes me aside and grabs her, yanking her the rest of the way out of the house.
There’s blood everywhere. I’m covered in it. My hands are soaked in it. I can’t decide if I want to sob or scream.
She’s going to be okay. She has to be okay.
We live in a town of supernaturals. People don’t just die.
Bran puts his wrist to his mouth, eyes flashing as he bites into his arm. I’ve grown up around vampires, but I’ll never get used to the sound of teeth piercing flesh, the skin ripping open, the blood rushing out.
I step back, arms crossed over my middle as Bran positions his bleeding wrist over my sister’s mouth. ‘Drink, Kelly,’ he orders, and my sister’s eyes flutter, her lips moving as the blood drips down her throat.
It only takes a few seconds for her to swim back to consciousness, and then she grabs Bran’s arm and brings it to her mouth, taking in a long drink.
I’ve never had vampire blood before, but I’ve heard that when you’re ill or wounded, the blood is like a drug. It takes the pain away, eases out the knots in your muscles, the ache in your bones.
‘All right,’ Bran says and yanks his arm back. ‘That’s enough.’
Kelly collapses to the deck, panting at the brightening sky, Bran’s blood coating her mouth.
‘Kelly?’ I scurry to her side. ‘Are you okay?’
She runs her tongue over her teeth. ‘I… think so?’
‘Do you remember what happened?’
Still covered in blood, she sits upright and smooths over her disheveled hair, painting her blond highlights in streaks of red. The wound in her neck is gone. ‘I’m not exactly sure what happened,’ she answers as I help her to her feet. When she spots Bran, she scowls. ‘What is he doing here?’
‘He saved you,’ Bran says.
Kelly scoffs.
‘You don’t remember?’ I frown. ‘You were bitten.’
Her gaze goes distant.
‘She’s been compelled,’ Bran says.
‘No, I haven’t,’ she argues.
‘Then where were you thirty minutes ago?’
‘I was—’ She cuts herself off and blinks several times. ‘I was…somewhere…and…’
‘Did you do this to her?’ I ask Bran.
He scowls at me. ‘Why would I?’
I want to throw his words back at him—There are better ways. More discreet ways—but what would it prove other than my eavesdropping? Besides, I have a very distinct feeling in my gut that Bran wasn’t responsible for this. Now that I’m out here, now that he’s saved her… I mean, I suppose saving her could also be a way to get beneath my skin, but we’ve already established that he is very, very much beneath my skin already.
‘She was called to the Lockes earlier,’ I tell Bran.
‘Did you see her when you got home?’
‘You mean after you abandoned me in the cemetery?’
‘He abandoned you in the cemetery?’ Kelly asks.
‘Focus, mouse,’ Bran says. ‘Did you see her afterward?’
When I came home, I automatically assumed Kelly was already in bed, but I never bothered to check.
‘I’m not sure,’ I admit. ‘She might have been gone.’
Bran’s expression softens, and he puts his hands gently on Kelly’s shoulders, forcing her to look at him. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘I’m fine,’ she says. ‘Just…jittery.’
‘That’s the blood,’ he tells her. ‘Go inside and take a shower, then lie down. Okay?’
She gives a reluctant nod before turning and disappearing into the house.
Bran looks over at me. ‘She could have died.’
‘But she didn’t.’
‘Why didn’t you invite me in? It’s not against the rules. You were risking nothing by doing it.’
‘Risking my innocence maybe.’
He makes a PAH sound before pulling off his white t-shirt. I’ve seen him naked half a dozen times, but the sight of him shirtless, the shadowed lines between his taut abs, the swell of his biceps—it catches me off guard every single time. Like you know the sun is going to set every day, but every day, when it burns at the horizon, when it paints the sky in jeweled shades of red and pink and orange, you can’t help but admire it.
Bran catches me staring and smirks. I curl my upper lip at him until he comes over and takes my hand in his and swipes away the blood with his balled-up t-shirt.
‘What are you doing? You’re going to stain your shirt—’
‘Will you stop fighting me?’ His eyes light up in the silvery early morning light. ‘You are infuriating.’
‘You’re a menace.’
A hint of a smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. When my hands are as clean as they’re going to get, he steps closer and threads his hand through my hair, fingertips pressing against the back of my skull as he forces me to tilt my head up to him.
The shiver that takes over me is involuntary. Primitive.
He draws the shirt over the line of my jaw. The sweep of it, the pressure of his caress, forces my lips to part, and Bran’s gaze sinks to my mouth.
A few hours ago, his fingers were inside of me, but somehow, the thought of his mouth on me is more illicit.
And then I blink back to reality and remember my sister was just attacked and Bran gave her his blood and he’s plotting something that has to do with me and my Pledge.
I bat his hand away. ‘I’m fine. Thank you.’
‘Are you?’
‘Yes. Goodnight.’ I start for the door when he grabs my wrist and yanks me back.
‘No,’ he says.
He seems to like that word.
‘No what?’
‘Your sister was just attacked. You really think I’m going to let you stay in that house when I can’t get inside?’
My mouth drops open. ‘What? But…why the hell do you even care?’
‘I gave you my word I’d help you, mouse, and I always keep my promises. Until we know who attacked your sister, you’ll stay at my house.’
And then he pulls me down the deck and across our yards and into his house.
